


Swords, sarcasm and large dose of self-pity.

by SpaceyWitch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Brienne of Tarth is the Best, Crossover, F/M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Jaime Lannister is so jealous, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, all have POVS, geralt actually talks, he has a dagger okay Geralt doesn’t know, jaime is annoyed with everyone, she is so stubborn but wholesome, small angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceyWitch/pseuds/SpaceyWitch
Summary: Jaskier, Geralt, Jaime and Brienne become an unlikely team held together by the ability to fight, sarcasm and shared trauma.They seek to find out the threat in the riverlands though that can only be done if everyone is truthful.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Jaskier I

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there I’m SpaceyWitch! This is my first crossover fic and first time posting a fic on Ao3.
> 
> If you haven’t already realised this is a ASOIAF x Witcher series that I’m attempting to write. This is the first part of this story with these select characters. The following other parts to the series of works (which I will hopefully write after I’ve finished this one) will be the same time frame but focused on different characters. 
> 
> I know more about Asoiaf than the Witcher (having done some extensive research on the characters aha) as I’ve only watched the show however I’m hoping to read the books soon! 
> 
> The first part of the series (this one) will flip flop between all the characters for POVs starting with Jaskier. 
> 
> (Btw the bit about Dany will make sense in later works or parts once I finish this work) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and please leave constructive criticism if you can since I need to really improve my writing! Thanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Bard meets a Valyrian bastard in the beginnings of winter. The bard takes liking to the Bastard but he doesn’t find it flattering.

A single snowflake fell on the Bard’s cheek as he traversed the foggy path. The mud had frozen over making his trip just a bit harder than it needed to be.

From time to time, he regretted his decision to leave.

His life in Highgarden had given him no favours to braving the chills of winter. Down in the reach nothing seemed to change in winter. Yes it may have gotten a little cooler for a few years but compared to this? It was nothing. He wished he had told his younger self to suck it up and stay down there. Otherwise he wouldn’t have ended up here.

Where he was exactly was a little bit of a mystery. The riverlands had been ravaged for the past few years like a young whore. War had destroyed the thriving towns and villages he knew there to be in summer. Audiences and inns were sparse and few between here; coin would be hard to find too. 

Jaskier had always been bad at directions ,it was a shock he had gotten this far without staving to death or falling down a ditch, though he was sure the faint lights in the distance indicated some form of life around here. Though with all the rumours of a hang woman circling around; maybe it wasn’t such a warm welcome.

He smiled to himself as he saw an inn through the thick fog. He thanked the seven that it wasn’t the hang woman. Otherwise he would have had to seduce a murderer. Not like he hadn’t done that before, of course. 

He opened the inn door and grinned; it was busier than the usual measly crowd. You could call it packed if you hadn’t seen the inns in Kingslanding. Though, he thought, maybe people would be put off visiting them due to a tyrannical Queen ruling the city.

When he stepped inside, the inn warmed Jaskier more than he could of wanted. He glanced over to the hearth in the middle of the room and reminded himself never, ever go to the north without a fire with him. 

He marched to the bar and leaned towards the owner. An old man; that meant he couldn’t charm his way for a room nor trick the deal, “Evening ser, I am but a simple bard travelling along the path. I’ll play for you in turn for a room and I’m sure to bring in business if you’ve ever heard of me” He put on his best grin as he took his lute out of its case and held it by his side. 

“Fuck will that do for me? It’s winter ,boy, no one will come just to see you. No matter how good you claim to be. I’ll have half of what you make and if you’re good I’ll give you a meal and drinks on the house.” He grumbled and motioned for Jaskier to leave. It was a shit deal but he knew it was the best he could have gotten in these strange times. 

Jaskier heard the door creek and noticed a figure out of the corner of his eyes. A hooded man: he had pale long silver-gold hair hiding in the shadows, a cream shirt with black trousers told Jaskier that he wasn’t common and a great sword over his back told him that the man was dangerous.

And exactly his type...

The common folk continued talking after stealing a few glances at the man seemingly not knowing who he was. Though Jaskier kept his bright eyes on the figure. From living at Highgarden, he had been sure to keep in on all the gossip of the Seven Kingdoms. By doing that he consequently had to learn all of the houses including the notable bastards. They usually produced the most chaos in the realms. Look at the Blackfyres. Though he was sure the Valyrian hair would have to give something away to bar goers. 

The Bard sighed and plucked at his lute in thought. The man dressed very plain for someone who should be noble. Compared to Jaskier he looked like a brother of the nights watch; Jaskier wore an emerald green doublet with similarly coloured trousers, his golden brown hair and his sky blue eyes complemented his slightly tanned skin. Even though he had abandoned any titles long ago it didn’t mean that he didn’t take some money from Highgarden. 

He got a cue from the owner to play and so Jaskier was up on the tables with in moments. He started with ‘The bear and the maiden fair’ which was sure to make everyone merry before he turned to ballads, bittersweet poems and the bawdiest songs he knew.

This was his element. Strumming the chords on his lute, dancing on the tables, charming the men and women and getting so drunk he could barely walk. Everyone had forgot about winter, wars and rulers for a night; they were merry. Except the hooded man. Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off him all night. He was just too interesting. He had a face of stone even when Jaskier sung “Jenny’s song” , which had brought most of the inn to tears. 

When he finished he collected his money, ate the meal he was offered and casually gossiped to the owner ,who happened to be in a much better mood now. Dragons and stags made a man as happy as a blushing maid. Though he had to ask, “You know who the one in the hood is by any chance?”

The owner crained his head so he was in view of the man, who was now sat in the corner emulating a shadow it seemed, “Aye I remember seeing him years ago I think. Wouldn’t forget Valyrian brood.” He grumbled as he poured a glass of ale. Jaskier nodded, “Do people notice or would a bard like me not get the jape?” 

“No I suppose people have noticed him but winter is here ,bard. Wars and terrors have past; people don’t care for a shifty looking bastard.” He sighed and left Jaskier alone at the bar to contemplate his words. 

—

Later on that night, he had picked to lean on the outside walls of the inn to practice new ballads he had created. He was perfectly content to pluck at the strings and daydream until he had to go back inside and swoon someone for a room.

He heard footsteps approach behind him. Even though he didn’t turn around in time to identify the person; he had a vague idea of who it was. He was pulled up by his collar to see a snarl on the Valyrian’s face. He pushed Jaskier against the wall and held onto his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Why the fuck have you been staring at me, bard?” He asked with his face contorted in a frown. Jaskier got a good look at his golden-lilac eyes, his sharp jaw and his silver hair as he tried to compose himself. As best as you could when you were being threatened by a man who could kill you in seconds, he assumed. 

“Me? Staring? Oh I must not have noticed I was doing it. If I even was ,ser, why would you notice?” He showed a small smirk which seemed to annoy him even more. The more angry he got the more contorted his face seemed. It was risky to do this, he admitted that; however, after two pints of ale you could say he was feeling confident.

“Don’t deny it, bard. What bone do you have to pick with me?” He growled his words this time as to show the seriousness of the situation. Jaskier deep down was frightened but it wasn’t the first threat he’d gotten and it certainly wasn’t the worst. He continued his lightheartedness as to confuse him. It was too fun. 

“Oh nothing. Just wondering why a Targaryen bastard would be wandering around the Riverlands and hiding his face? Is it too beautiful for the maidens you look on?” Jaskier grinned at his own jape as he noticed Water’s face. His lilac eyes looked daggers at Jaskier but all he could do was laugh. 

“How the hell do— Are you a spy?” He finally shut the bard up with that question. It was just so...outrageous. Jaskier a spy. Sure maybe if he put the effort he might be half good. Though him, now? Jaskier laughed. 

“No ,no I’m not. I’m just a stunning bard who has apparently caught the eye of Geralt Waters. You have a great type you know.” He winked at him and chuckled as Geralt sported a confused expression on his face. There was nothing the bard loved more than confusing peoples preferences.

Apparently it had worked as Geralt dropped him and stepped back. It must have been freezing outside the inn as the man’s cheeks were a darker pink than they had been before. Jaskier could see the confusion written across his face followed by Geralt breaking eye contact, “I’m not- Forget it, Bard.” He quickly changed the look of confusion to a scowl and marched away like a child would after they’ve thrown a tantrum. 

Jaskier’s smirk dropped and he tried to catch up to the man, “Wait come back ,Waters. Why would someone put a bounty on you. You’re nothing other than a hotheaded ,handsome brute it seems.” He wore a small smile as he tried, hopelessly, to stop the man from marching away. He was too intriguing now to just stop the conversation.

“Cersei, Stannis and Daenerys. They would want me dead.” He muttered as though people would overhear him; even though he failed to forget they were alone in the freezing cold. 

“You really think any of them know you exist? Stannis with too much a hard on for justice in the north, Lady Lannister infirm and insane then the mother of dragons too busy conquering Pentos.” Jaskier explained if it was as universally known as ‘The seven pointed star.’ Geralt clearly didn’t keep up on this information as he stopped in his tracks.

“Hmm.” He scratched his chin acting as if Jaskier had already left. That was almost annoying as a tough crowd. Almost.

“You’ve never thought of that? Seven, don’t you ever talk to people? It would explain threatening a bard wouldn’t it?” Jaskier couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. He knew Targaryens could be a mixed bag, just ask Brandon Stark, though he supposed the bastards were more stoic. 

“Doesn’t explain why you were staring at me, Bard.” Geralt turned his head towards him and glanced Jaskier up and down before he continued to his horse. Jaskier followed him too confused to stop.

“My name is Jaskier not Bard. I would describe myself as a magpie; I’m attracted to shiny things like Targaryens and coins.” He smirked as he leant against the pub while he watched the Targaryen saddle up his horse. That was one of his better japes he’s said in his life of being a charmer.

“You’re more like a crow judging your talking abilities.” Jaskier swore he could have seen a smirk on Geralts face though he must have been wrong since a moment later the same stone face was back. 

Jaskier had a thought, “You’re interesting, Geralt. I want to propose a deal.” 

“Absolutely not.” He didn’t waste a heartbeat or even turn his head to reply. He was too busy with hoisting himself onto his horse. 

Jaskier took a long dramatic sigh and picked up his lute case, “Guess I’ll have to follow you then until you listen, bastard.”

—

“Do you ever stop talking?!” Geralt Waters near shouted as he pulled his horse to a stop. The poor mare looked surprised at her riders sudden change in temper. “Ever?!”

It had been quite some time since they left the inn, in truth the sharp crescent of the moon was barely visible through the dark clouds. Traversing along a river bank made the journey somewhat better than the wood paths Jaskier usually took. They truly were only scary if you believed in Snarks, Grumpkins and the Others. 

Having someone to talk to on the path was thrilling for Jaskier , someone who never wanted to be quiet, so he may of been rambling too much for the Targaryen’s likings. 

“If I’m ever to tame your brutish manners I have to use what I know best ,ser. Besides, You haven’t kicked me to the side yet, ser.” He felt a tinge of sadness at his last words. Old memories. He hoped Geralt wouldn’t assume anything different in his tones or small smile.

Thankfully for Jaskier; Geralt didn’t notice. He tapped his mare and she continued obediently, “I’m not even a knight stop fucking calling me that.” His tone was as sharp as a sword and as vile as poison. Jaskier had to take a second to replay what he had just said and to ignore the vicious tone. He’s not a knight after all? What is he then? 

He ran to catch up with Geralt and having to dodge the invisible icy terrain to avoid getting his favourite silver boots muddy, “Oh? Deepest regrets, Waters, I am terribly sorry I assumed that a man with a giant ,nasty great-sword would be a knight?” Jaskier tried his best to keep his voice as grave as possible though he couldn’t help but he ended up winking at the end with a shit eating grin. 

He however didn’t approve. Geralt gave him a blank stare with raised eyebrows, “Hilarious. Who told you that you have a sword to be a knight? Or a great sword?” If he were anyone else, Jaskier would have thought he was making an unsavoury jape. Though maybe he didn’t know the Targaryen yet after half a day, but he knew bastards. 

“Highgarden.” He took a moment to catch his breath, “You would always see men duelling in ornate suits and swords in the courtyard. Even in the slums of the city you’d see some soldiers with dull iron swords. All of them I supposed were knights.” His face dropped a little. He was honest ,for the most part. Something Jaskier had no trouble in doing but this time it was hard. He thought about it all the time. His time at Highgarden was equated with many emotions in his mind ; guilt for leaving, regret for his actions and melancholy for leaving his family to deal with his loss. 

The Targaryen’s eyes widened and he finally payed attention to him which Jaskier gave him a small smile for, “Highgarden? Who in the seven hells are you, Bard? What are you doing in the Riverlands?” His tone was too harsh. 

Jaskier froze up. He messed with his lute case. For the first time he could remember it was completely silent, “It’s—I’d rather not...” He stuttered not wanting to give Geralt any information but also not wanting him to interrogate him.

Jaskier looked at the river instead of that bastards face. He rested his hand on his neck and just sighed. 

Without a word, he continued walking and caught up with Waters. They walked in silence for a few minutes but to Jaskier’s shock Geralt started the conversation. 

“Knights are all corrupt these days. Honour is bullshit.” He stated and his horse snorted in agreement. It made Jaskier smile for a moment or three. He has no clue how to start a conversation. Such a recluse.

“You’re not honourable? I knew too many a people who would have slit my throat if they were you last night.” Jaskier looked up at him to gage his expressions but his golden-lilac eyes gave nothing away. 

Jaskier hummed in thought, “If you’re not honourable at least you’re not as bad as the Kingslayer, the Mad King or even Hang Woman myth.” He regretted mentioning the Man’s father instantly but it was the first name to come to his head. Burning people alive is when you know someone has truly lost their grip on the world. 

Geralt gave a small smirk, “That isn’t a good standard if I’m only more honourable than them, Jaskier.” Jaskier turned his head when he heard his name. God he was like a sad mutt when affection was gifted to him. It was the first time that Geralt had said his name which made him happier than it should of. He gifted an easy smile which made Geralt clear his throat. Completely unrelated ,he assumed. 

“Who is the hang woman anyway? I’ve never heard of her.” He asked as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing he’d done all day. Jaskier would have to think on that though. He had asked too many awful questions today. 

“It must have slipped my mind that you don’t listen to rumours like common folk. People have seen a woman and a band of small folk travelling around the Riverlands killing nobles and raping the land for everything good. Though I take to believing it’s most likely the Lannister’s trying to cover up their actions.” Jaskier added his own theory since even though he couldn’t care less about which way the war turns out; he had sympathised with many of the common folk tales. 

“Woman? Is she trying to take over the Riverlands?” They made eye contact which Jaskier understood as Geralt coming to some conclusion or another. His eyes were the prettiest Jaskier had seen: they were mainly a bright lilac with flecks of golden yellow. The colours complemented each other and it was hard to determine which colour dominated his eyes. Jaskier had always believed his eyes were pretty but clearly the Valyrians had the upper hand. 

“I know it is outrageous. Do they think we have no sense? Trust the Westerland commanders to come up with a lie and this is what they think up.” He explained as he grabbed onto Geralt’s horse for balance against the icy ground. 

“She could be here for her crown.” He said as if he were talking for only his horse to hear. Jaskier caught onto his line of thought however and stopped himself before he embarrassed himself in front of his horse.

“Who the mother of dragons? Listen, Waters, I am sure you would have heard about dragons in the Riverlands if she was here. She’s in the Vale didn’t you hear?” He slapped himself on the wrist as he really just asked Ser Recluse I’d he’d heard of Daenerys Targaryen arriving in the Vale. 

“She’s started her conquest?”

“Oh let the others take you. You’re as smart as a bullock, Geralt waters.” Jaskier gruffawed at Water’s questions as they traveled up stream in hopes of finding a place to rest.


	2. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get into disagreements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I’ll update this every week or every two weeks! 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter full of arguments :) !
> 
> -SpaceyWitch

They left the quiet isle three days ago and in Jamie Lannister’s not so honourable opinion; they hadn’t gotten any closer to finding the hound. It was the blind leading the bind.

Over the past moons or so, he’d been stuck on a measly hill with only the wench and a score too many of pompous eunnechs for his taste. Even the Elder Brother came to annoy him on that damn isle. Telling him he couldn’t share Brienne’s hut unless they were wed even when she was between living and dying. He didn’t end up wedding her; a Kingsguard was not wont to do that. Even one as dishonourable as the Kingslayer.

In the days there, the choice between talking to the most stubborn person in Westeros or the high septon of commoners; he would be more content in his own ramblings.

It was all for the wench, in truth. He knew she was lying about something. Her big eyes always looking unsure, bitting her chapped lips and fiddling with her baby hairs. After a moons turn of wandering around the Riverlands , her lips were as tight as a virgin and her temper unmovable as a mountain.

The quiet isle was never on his list of places to visit in Westeros though the serene little island was pleasant enough with its cosy shacks and sandy bay. It wasn’t their intention to end up there; it was his concern for her health that lead them. He felt obligated in some way to take care of her as if she were kin; why he wasn’t sure. _It’s my fault she’s even out here._

This all came to a climax on a normal morning of riding off the beaten path, dodging outlaws and Lannisters alike. Brienne’s wounds had been festering, leaking and dirtying for the past days. That morning proved the limits of her body.

—

“Brienne, how much longer of this do I have to endure? It’s been many, many moons and we’re riding in circles,” He sighed, “Seven, I left Kingslanding to ride away from the insane though it seems I’m becoming it if we continue like this for longer.” Jaime complained as the sun peaked her head up from the forest horizon. It was common that he would complain like a crone to pass the time. He found much more enjoyment in complaining than anything else.

Though this morning was queer: Brienne was hunched over where she usually had some posture, he noticed she was trembling not of her own will and the bandaged wound on her face was exuding some vile liquid. She was truly a sight that would make your eyes sore.

“Mhmm...circles, ser.” She muttered a she weakly shook her head. Mayhaps Jaime was already insane but she didn’t look too awake either. No, he didn’t mean the fever; she looked like she was in another world entirely.

He rode Honour up to her destrier and moved his head to see her eyes. _They weren’t right at all either; hazed_. Jaime wouldn’t admit it outright but he worried for her.

“Brienne look at me.” Jaime ordered her to as he pulled her horse to a stop. She turned her head blinked slowly a few times and murmured, “I don’t...take me to the quiet isle.” After that, her eyes fluttered shut; when this happened, she lost grip of the reigns, relaxing her whole body.

Jamie’s heart dropped in his chest. In moments, he dismounted Honour, not so elegantly, and caught Brienne’s heavy body before she fell off her horse to break more bones than she already had. He dropped to the floor and supported her head with his golden hand and the real one her back. _She’s not responding._ “Brienne don’t you dare leave me here. Quiet isle? What in the seven hells is that?” _Stupid, stubborn..._ He couldn’t lose her to a stupid fever. They’d survived the brave companions together. They’d survived the bear pit. They’d survived Kingslanding. He hadn’t lost her yet and wouldn’t lose her here.

Jaime held her hastily looking at his surroundings for anyone. There was a beach not half far from his location. He spotted a figure with a dog wandering close to the water. He could never carry her over there nor hoist her back onto her horse. _Seven ,please help me out here._ He felt useless and that was the worst possible thing to be when he was desperate for help.

“Ser!” He shouted, “Help, I need help!” The figure in the distance turned his way and ran. Jaime Lannister gave a sigh of relief when the man neared.

“The lady knight.” The commoner muttered and moved to the opposite side of Jaime. He kneeled in the mud and Jaime was quick to notice him looking over her whole body. _How the hell does he know her? If he tries anything..._ Jaime suspected he wouldn’t but you couldn’t be too sure. “What happened?”

“Passed out. You know her? She needs help and said something about an isle. ” The man picked up her legs and Jaime under her arms. He could imagine Brienne would protest to this if she were still awake; most probably with kicks and declarations that she is not dying she simply rested her eyes. He wished he could laugh.

“Aye, I’d be a liar if I didn’t. Come quickly we don’t have much time.” They sat her on Honour in front of Jaime and he let the man hold onto her horse. He hit his heels into Honour and they rode to the shore for the quiet isle.

—

As the two rode down the forest path, Jaime Lannister tucked that memory away so he wouldn’t have to deal with it for the rest of his time on the path. He glanced around him to see frost, ice and snow melting in the dull winter sun. The weather was chilling though they hadn’t been cursed with a blizzard. _Thank whatever gods are out there._

Though as he was trying to think he had the unnerving feeling somebody’s eyes were on him. Jaime turned to steal a glance at Brienne in which he caught her gaze for a few moments. _I should concentrate on the path not her eyes._ He allowed a small smirk to appear on his tired face, “Have you decided on wether to use your voice today?”

“Yes. I- I’m...well...” She spluttered cutting off the moment by suddenly being very interested in the dirt bellow. This had been repeating since they left the isle: he would say a jape and she would splutter or give a blunt response. Jaime had wrongly thought his hot temper had been tamed though this miserable routine lit a fire within him for the truth. 

“Spit it out ,wench.” He said with an icier tone to his voice. She had turned around at the mockery with a forlorn look on her scarred face. _The scar hasn’t done her any favours. Underneath is a different maid I once knew._ Jaime ran his fingers through his greying blonde hair in an effort to keep himself calm,  
“I have been patiently waiting for some semblance of a normal conversation moons ago.”

“It wasn’t my fault I was healing, ser. I seem to remember you were the one to consign me to bed.” She said while her lips turned in a frown. _Her lips are fine though_. He studied her face for the thousandth time it seemed; it didn’t seem real that she was near full health. Her pale face freckled, her hair was a darker shade of straw yellow and longer than it was in autumn with it reaching to her shoulders, the scar on her cheek not as bloody or deep as it seemed before the isle and her eyes...they were like sapphires. Still shining even though everything she’s been through. Jamie’s had turned dull to the emerald green he had in youth. 

“You may be in the right of it; however I did it for your wellbeing. Besides, you have had three days to be truthful. Yet here we still ride and you act like you’ve had your tongue cut out.” Jaime said relinquishing his gaze from her. She still stared at him however with a look of utter confusion painted on her face.

“I’m not following, ser. What are you insinuating?” Jaime tutted her which she gave him daggers for. Brienne looked at him with accusation and confusion yet he tried to ignore it completely.

“I may be a cripple, Brienne, but I’m not blind. I name you, the once stupidly honourable maiden of Tarth, a terrible liar.” He pronounced in a false courtly voice. Jaime knew how the squires and maesters rang out the titles every time a king came to address the realm. _So many kings, all dead now. Tommen most likely was already_ ,he decided, _whenever Cersei got her claws into someone it meant they were doomed. I would know._ The smile he wore didn’t reach his eyes.

Brienne hesitated before replying, “Lying? Why haven’t you brought this up before? You could have questioned before the isle or-“

“I ask you now because you’re not feverish and I now don’t have your death on my conscious.”

“I-I’m not.” She stuttered. _She doesn’t even have the nerve to look at me._

With his good hand, Jaime spurred his horse on faster than the trot they were at. In truth, it wasn’t much of an increase in speed but it put him further ahead than Brienne. _I thought she was the truthful one. Is everyone in this world a turncloak, tyrant or bastard?_ He had right to be angry, he reasoned, of all people why would Brienne lie. _Why is she continually lying? It is so unlike her. Had she found some maturity in her task?_

“Jaime!” Brienne shouted after him. He hopelessly tried to stop Honour when he realised he was heading towards a tree. Jaime knew he would have no injuries to worry about as Brienne came from behind, pulled on his reins and lead him to a halt at the last moment. He scowled down at his golden hand feeling his phantom fingers tingle. _Good for nothing._

“Brienne, how did you happen to get that scar?” He knew she was staring holes into his back with her sympathetic eyes.

“It’s nothing of significance. Just a dog bite I had on my journey.” _Lying through her teeth again._

“From the hound ,I wager?” His words dripped with vileness.

“That is not funny.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, turning more towards him.

“Oh you know that was a better jape. I see your smile. Now do I have to imitate my father to get you to talk or do I need to act like Renly?” Jaime smirked. Her large eyes widened at _his_ name but her expression quickly turned to a scowl. _I wonder does she keep her affections for him even after death?_

“Leave it, Jaime.”

“A dog didn’t do that to you.” He assured himself more than her by saying it out loud. She turned away again from him and urged her mate to trot.

“No...a dog didn’t do it. It was a man.” She said in a voice almost too quiet to be heard. Jaime catched up to her with the smirk and vile ripped off of his face.

“Seven hells, Brienne. Why didn’t you tell me? Who? If you tell me I’ll—“

This time she was the one to interrupt his paranoia,“One is the brave companions. It matters not now; he’s dead, Jaime.”


End file.
